


beginnings

by gracefuldean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Body Worship, Love Confessions, M/M, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, canonverse, i just really love destiel and space okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 19:14:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17987012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracefuldean/pseuds/gracefuldean
Summary: Dean asks Castiel about his dreams; Castiel tells him the story of the universe.





	beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> i listened to [mars](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Uo6mMx_wYU/) the entire time i wrote this and maybe you should too
> 
> also thank you to my betas [bend-me-shape-me](https://bend-me-shape-me.tumblr.com/) and Linds. ily!<3

“What do angels dream about?”

“Angels don’t sleep, Dean.”

“Yeah, I know that but I meant when you… you know.”

“When I lost my grace? Became human?”

“Yeah. It’s fine if you don’t wanna talk about it. Believe me, I understand.”

“I don’t mind. It’s who I was, what I became, but that chapter of my existence is over; things are different now.”

Dean nods in silent agreement.

Sensing his hesitance, Castiel asks, “What would you like to know?”

Dean looks up at him, beautiful green eyes piercing into him, down to Castiel’s very core. His breath catches in his lungs. “Do you dream about monsters and demons like me? About things that could’ve been?”

“I dreamt about the past. About the beginning.”

“Yours?”

“No. I do not remember much from my beginning; only my Father’s voice, when his breath commanded me into existence. Suddenly, I was there, created to serve Him.”

Dean blinks, casting his eyes downwards, but Castiel can’t look away, transfixed by the way Dean’s eyelashes cast lovely shadows on his freckled skin. He sees his brow dip, almost imperceptibly, as they always do when the hunter is deep in thought. 

Green meets blue again. “What else?”

“Creation. Or the Big Bang as you humans call it.”

“What do you remember from it?”

“Colors. Dust. Heat. So much heat. Sometimes, I can still hear the birth of everything, of infinity.”

“I thought sound couldn’t travel in space?”

“It’s all quiet now. Everything that exists is all that will ever be.”

“Oh.”

“You seem disappointed about that.”

Dean’s gaze lands somewhere among the buttons of Castiel’s coat. He gives a slight shrug.

Castiel steps closer to him, close enough to feel the warmth emanating from Dean’s skin, like the warm rays of the sun, and Castiel wants to bask in it, let it soak into him and ignite him from within, but he stays still.

“I remember the primordial particles colliding in a glorious explosion, remember the sounds, this never-ending loudness, as they died and fused together, creating beautiful things from the ashes of their violent demise. I saw how the remnants of their destruction shaped the foundations of what we see, what we _are_ today, and I dreamt about how all that pain, how all those multiplying atoms scattered in the dark of space struggled against the unwavering force of gravity, believing it would crush them, extinguish their bodies under its unforgiving force, and how they coalesced to form extraordinary things instead, and I can’t help but marvel at the perfection of my Father’s engineering; at how all that hardship, that agonizing transformation, shaped and molded a wild breathtaking chaos into something infinitely more beautiful.”

Dean gasps at the revelation, a tiny intake of breath that Castiel would’ve missed if they weren’t standing so close together. At some point while Castiel told him the story of the universe, confessed the nature of dreams he no longer has (but still thinks about) when he closed his eyes to rest, he and Dean had moved closer to one another, and their chests are almost pressed together now, the fabric of their clothes brushing when they take a breath in the small space between them.

Dean overrides his senses, rewriting the laws and rules embedded into his system since his creation with just one look, and Castiel is helpless against the storm brewing behind Dean’s eyes, blinded by the brightness of his soul, and he feels like an astral body himself, caught in the pull of Dean’s gravity, pulling at Castiel’s grace, his essence, with a force that could rival even the densest of stars. Castiel is past the point of no return, has been for so many years, but now the crash into Dean feels closer, the imminent event quickening the blood coursing through his vessel’s veins.

Castiel licks his lips, parched all of the sudden, craving what he has denied himself for so long. Dean follows the movement, and when he meets Castiel’s gaze again, a heated darkness expands and swallows the crisp forest green of his irises, leaving only a thin ring behind; an eclipse.

And when Castiel sees what he feels, what he has felt for years, reflected with the same intensity and longing in Dean’s eyes, he feels something give.

“But the thing I dreamt about the most, Dean… was you.”

Castiel lets his softly spoken words hang in the air between them, condensing it with barely-contained want and consuming yearning, and it charges the particles around them with a volatile tension, waiting for the most miniscule of sparks to ignite the invisible currents running over their skin.

“I dreamt about your beginning, as often as I dreamt about all the ends you have met. Ever since the moment I laid eyes on you, since I saw the purest light among the blood and darkness on the bowels of Hell, I was drawn to you and, inexplicably, became bonded to you. And the moment I saw it, saw _you_ , I saw a new beginning… my beginning. And when I gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition, put your bones together and infused them with your soul once more, I wasn’t lost like so many people might lead you to believe… I was found.”

A hand grabs at Castiel’s coat tightly, clenching the material with desperate fingers at the collar and Dean is breathing quickly now, a small slight frown crowning his brow as he struggles to understand Castiel’s words, their meaning, his wide eyes searching the angel’s with a burning hunger that Castiel himself has been intimately acquainted with for many years.

“I dreamt about your eyes quite often, about getting lost on the vibrant green fields contained in those beautiful, sincere eyes, and I basked in the radiance of the golden rays that peek playfully between the folds of your irises when the sunlight hits them at just the right angle. I traveled down the curve of your nose, counting each and every freckle like stars in the sky, drawing constellations with the tips of my fingers, and lastly, landing in the plush, soft swell of your lips.

You always talked in my dreams, but I never could remember what you said once I woke up. I remember every one of your smiles though, every time you laughed so rapturously I thought my heart would burst from your infectious happiness, and I recall thinking, whenever I had these dreams, that somehow I must’ve died, for surely this is what paradise looked like.

So to answer your earlier question; yes, sometimes I dreamt of ghosts and things that could’ve been, about the birth of galaxies and all things and the complex becoming of the machinery of the universe. But see, they are all the same; you, Dean Winchester, were always somehow there.

Like a living ghost, you have haunted me from the beginning of my existence; long before you had this body, I witnessed your creation, unmeasurable distances away, eons ago. You were formed in the core of the stars I saw being created and destroyed, and from the cooling stardust of giants, you came to be. And you became who you are, this miraculous living and breathing expression of the universe, this man who no matter how many times has been beaten down, broken, transforms into something even more beautiful, stronger, every single time.

And until my very last breath, until the last second of my existence, I will always dream of you.”

Lightning flashes behind Dean’s enlarged pupils, and that’s all it takes to combust the air between their bodies. Just as suddenly, Castiel is crashing, plummeting across the atmosphere like a burning meteor, heat enveloping as he free falls, with a certain clarity and finality that only life-altering events can provide, into Dean’s parted lips.

When their lips meet, it’s as powerful as as two colliding stars, the impact violent in itself, fueled by years of consuming hunger and aching yearning. Castiel’s arms circle around Dean’s waist, smashing their bodies together until every inch of him is pressed along every inch of Dean, and Dean clings to Castiel like he’s afraid he might disappear if he loosens his grip, pressing his velvety lips against Castiel’s in a searing kiss, burning him from the inside out.

The blazing fire licking along his borrowed veins has Castiel groaning lowly, savoring the softness of Dean’s lips, and the hunter responds by deepening the kiss, letting his wet tongue sweep along the seam of Castiel’s lips in a delicious, tantalizing drag. A pained sound rips its way out of Castiel’s throat, no, from his very _being_ , and the fire roars into an inferno, igniting a deep desire akin to lust with every touch of their skin, with every exploring kiss, and they let it consume them, reduce them to ashes, together.

They don’t stop kissing and touching each other while they make their way down the corridor of the bunker, and their progress toward Dean’s room is slow compared to how frantically they’re running their hands on each other, but it’s alright, it’s perfect, and even though they claw at each other with a growing and equally eager impatience, they know that they have all the time in the world now.

In the quiet space of Dean’s room, surrounded by precious bits of history and little pieces of Dean, Castiel can’t help but feel like he has stepped into a sacred place, and Castiel keeps falling, yielding to a gravity he would never want to fight, and falls until his knees land on the cold concrete floor, and he gazes up at Dean, up at his new god, adoration and love, so much love, pouring out of him in endless waves. 

With his mouth, he worships Dean, giving in to the most barest, rawest of instincts, and Dean clings to Castiel in desperation, holding on to the soft dark hair on the back of the angel’s head, gasping, pleading, begging for him in a breathless prayer, a desperate supplication.

And Castiel answers, just like he always does, revealing miles of skin and solid muscle and beautiful scars, the history of Dean’s life greeting his reverent and ravenous eyes. Dean yanks at Castiel’s clothes more forcefully, with more urgency, and they fall all around them, lying in crumpled heaps by the end of the bed. There’s no finesse to his actions, just as there’s no finesse to the violent beginnings of the universe, but Castiel is on the brink of experiencing something just as unique, as extraordinary and life-altering; a cataclysm. And he welcomes it.

Their bodies collide once every barrier between their skin and bodies is removed, their clothes scattered, unimportant and forgotten, and together, they fall, like meteors, like the Perseids, traversing across the dome of the night sky, and Castiel is briefly reminded of a similar fall, a more painful and utterly devastating one; one that his he and his kin suffered as one, but this fall feels different, with purpose and a thousand times more meaningful. It’s a fall, Castiel realizes a bit too late, that has happened for quite some time now, a fall so great, so complete that the enormity of it had completely blinded him, rendering him oblivious until right this moment, where the ground is rushing towards him so quickly, that he is sure he will not survive the impact.

The wind blows around them, the particles parting as they keep falling, backwards, and time slows down, stretching before them, and in the green of Dean’s eyes, Castiel can see the beginning of the end; the end of him, of who he once was, when long ago he was formed from his Father’s breath, pulled together by heavenly will and molded into the celestial being he is, created to serve and worship his Lord, and only Him, and in its stead, a new purpose bloom, a purer commandment, fiercely sinking its roots in Castiel very core, his grace, rewriting and rearranging his cells, his wavelengths, down to his very last atom.

And he welcomes his death, the demise of his past self, embracing it with comfort, with peace, with love, and Castiel soars, free and light, with this consuming unwavering adoration and devotion, and when time resumes and they land in the soft welcoming folds of Dean’s bed, Castiel is born anew.

With eager and exploring touches, they discover one another, the callused fingers of their battle-worn hands running across the expanse of their fevered skin, dipping and climbing every hill and valley of their bodies. Castiel kisses Dean, kisses him with every fiber of his angelic entity, with everything he is and will ever be, and when they finally, _finally_ join their bodies, Castiel sinking into the molten heat of Dean’s body, a raw primal need possesses them both, and together, with every ardent kiss, with every searing touch and earth-shattering thrust, they share their breath as one, _become one_. Something new blooms, comes to life in the fused spaces between them, and Castiel witnesses it’s beautiful creation, soaking in the cosmic symphony that echoes infinitely against the bare walls of the room; a new universe, one that only he and Dean inhabit, and it’s beautiful, extraordinary, and theirs.

 

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you think and/or come say hi! [my tumblr](http://gracefuldean.tumblr.com/)


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